


Lifeline

by AnotherSquirrel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSquirrel/pseuds/AnotherSquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life often takes twists and turns that Prowl's plans can't account for. This time it threw him a lifeline, and he’s not going to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifeline

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: The pilot just died, if you want to live - run, hide and seek, first light, savior, must keep quiet, and chances are slim  
> Notes: For the 2014 prowlxjazz community anniversary challenge.

_“One night (Take me) with me (with you)_

_Stay here (I’ll go) if you can now baby (baby)_

_I’ll hold (I’ll give) onto (you my) anything (everything) if have to darling (darling).”_

-          _“Pretty Thing”_ by Broods 

 

Prowl was aware of his weaknesses. He also knew that his social ineptness was right near the top of the list. Prowl’s inability to notice certain social cues and their meanings stemmed from his general disinterest in most interactions, mostly because he liked being alone almost as much as he liked being useful and doing something. That his job combined those things was great, but sometimes Prowl wished he had spent at least little more time paying attention to and understanding the more social aspects of life. This was one of those times.

 

Something was wrong, and Prowl had not the slightest clue as to what it could possibly be.

 

The shuttle was secure. Their route was secure – they were flying from Autobot territory over Autobot territory to Autobot territory. Yes, they were skirting the Decepticon border, and Polyhex was situated very close to Decepticon territory, but reports clearly showed major Decepticon activity and players over near Kalis, nowhere near Polyhex.

 

Prowl could not think of a single logical reason as to why the entire crew onboard kept tightening their grips on their weapons and had been since they left Iacon. Or why their optics kept shifting around uneasy, or why they kept fidgeting. If it had been only one or two of the mechs, Prowl could have easily passed it off as simple dislike of their commanding officer of Polyhex as the crew was returning to their post. But for every single mech aboard the shuttle to show the same uneasiness, including the one other mech who was from the Iacon base? Not plausible.

 

Prowl’s musings paused and then backtracked as something strange actually stood out to him this time. Why was there only one mech from Iacon other than himself on the shuttle? In fact, if Prowl could recall correctly – which he did – every one of these mechs had volunteered for the escort mission which was a perplexing point all on its own. Who volunteered for an escort mission with _Prowl_?

 

Sideswipe’s exact words when he found out that he would not have to accompany Prowl this time around had been: “Oh thank Primus for small mercies!”

 

It was a sentiment that many of Prowl’s fellow Autobots shared.

 

Prowl was startled out of his contemplation when something hit the shuttle, knocking it off its projected course, pushing it closer to the Decepticon border just as they entered the Polyhex territory.

 

“What the frag?” Rotor snarled, jumping up from his seat, finger on the trigger of his gun.

 

The pilot activated the shuttle’s outer cameras giving the mechs inside as clear a view as possible through the smoke that billowed off the shuttle of what had hit them.

 

Prowl could feel his processor try to stall at the image.

 

“That… is an Autobot shuttle,” Prowl said, not taking his optics off the screen that showed the smoking and sparking sad excuse for a shuttle that had rammed into theirs.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, five guns were trained on the tactician. Prowl could feel a headache coming on as his tactical was finally able to put all the pieces together, and he was appalled. Because how could six – because at this point, the pilot had to be in on it too – traitors manage to get the SIC of the Autobot army alone on a shuttle, with only an acid pellet rifle, in addition to – as Prowl made a quick check just to make sure – a blocked comm. line? He was not even sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

 

Prowl chose to ignore the banging coming from the outside of the shuttle and focused on the threat that was in the shuttle with him. If he took his rifle out of his subspace he could fire back, but judging from the way Rotor kept twitching, he likely had a twitchy trigger finger which would mean that Prowl would either be injured or dead by the time Prowl had the rifle in his hands. Hand to hand combat would be a better defense, but a twitchy trigger finger was usually accompanied by poor aim, and Prowl really did not want to fall to his death from a hole accidentally blown into the hull of the shuttle. The third option was to wait it out for rescue, they obviously wanted him alive and as long as he did not fight, he could plan for a better escape once he was on solid ground, problematic because once they were on the ground there was an 85.4 percent probability of reinforcements. Prowl would have to wait for when the Autobots had the chance to form a competent rescue team and mission, a 62.7 percent likelihood of Prowl being in a Decepticon cell for two and a half metacycles.

 

Prowl’s decision was interrupted by a loud crash in the cockpit of the shuttle, causing every mech’s attention to shift in time to see the window caved in and the flicker of an energon dagger flying through the hole.

 

Prowl felt his processor attempt to stall again as the pilot just died from the all too familiar energon dagger that now penetrated through combat grade armor and spark casing guttering the mech’s spark. Prowl pushed aside the feeling and sprang into action, jumping up and grabbing Rotor’s gun arm as the mech’s twitchy trigger finger pulled the trigger twice in quick succession with Prowl guiding the gun to fatally hit two of the other traitors.

 

As Prowl reached to grab Rotor’s helm and slam it against his knee, one of the remaining mechs moved to the cockpit. From the corner of his optic, Prowl could see him and another mech grappling in the cockpit, and with no one manning the controls, the shuttle dropped.

 

The final mech fired his own gun at Prowl, who used Rotor as a shield as the intruder hit the button to open the door. Prowl threw Rotor at the remaining traitor in the hold, knocking them both out of the now open door as the intruder brutally cut off the head of the remaining traitor, and grabbed at the controls for the still falling shuttle.

 

It was too little too late.

 

The shuttle continued careening down as the intruder struggled with the controls in what Prowl figured to be a desperate attempt to somewhat control the inevitable crash landing.

 

“Hold on!”

 

Prowl held onto a seat as best he could, but still lost his grip and flew forward into the cockpit as the shuttle smashed into the ground and skidded over the surface of Cybertron.

 

Prowl remained still with his optics off once the shuttle stopped moving.

 

It was quiet for half a breem, then.

 

“Prowl?”

 

“Jazz,” Prowl said, because of course it would be Jazz. Because only Jazz had the uncanny ability to appear where he was most needed with no apparent reason for being there, other than to give Prowl’s highly advanced tactical processor a run for its money.

 

“You need to go,” Jazz said, and Prowl felt him push his shoulder. When Prowl merely onlined his optics to give Jazz an inquiring look, Jazz huffed but continued to push at Prowl’s shoulder as he repeated himself. “You need to go.”

 

“Jazz, they –”

 

Jazz cut Prowl off as the saboteur pulled himself to lean against the wall of the shuttle. “I know, but now isn’t the time to talk, they already called for backup before they crossed the Polyhex border. You’re their target, so if you want to live – run. The Decepticons already know you’re here.”

 

“And what of yourself?” Prowl asked standing up and Jazz gestured to his right leg. It was mangled and sparking, far beyond the help of the simple field repairs that they were capable of.

 

Prowl shook his helm understanding what Jazz was suggesting, and it was not a viable option.

 

“I will not abandon you,” Prowl said and moved to Jazz’s right side. He pulled the saboteur’s right arm over his shoulder to help support Jazz’s weight. “I would suggest you put your processor to more helpful things. Such as a safe place to get a proper look at your leg. I take it that Polyhex is not safe?”

 

Prowl began to walk, pulling Jazz along to exit the now thoroughly trashed shuttle.

 

“Yeah, I’ll explain later, we need to get moving, and this wreck’s just a huge target at this point. There’s an old underground complex a ways west of here that’s off the radar, it’ll work as a shelter,” Jazz replied and Prowl nodded.

 

A smoldering wreck was no place to stay in possible enemy territory. Even if that were not the case, Prowl trusted Jazz’s judgment.

 

“Then we’d best be moving.”

 

===

 

They reached the underground complex with little trouble, and given how a simple shuttle escort had gone and that Jazz’s leg was still mangled and sparking, that was something of a small miracle to Prowl.

 

The most trouble that they had had had been dodging Decepticon patrols and mechs scanning the area for them. And Prowl was not sure which he found more disturbing, being in an obvious Decepticon territory with limited supplies and an injured partner or that the Decepticons had such an obvious control of what Prowl – and all of the Autobot command – had considered to be an Autobot territory until now. Something had gone very wrong somewhere, and Prowl wanted to know where and how, because it was just inexcusable.

 

Jazz hissed as his injured leg was jarred against the uneven ground and brought Prowl to another unanswered question. How had Jazz known that it was a trap and get to the shuttle in time to intercept it for a rescue? Prowl pushed away the first thing that his tactical processor had given him, because as frustrating as Jazz could be, he was not a traitor.

 

Prowl found a little alcove in the complex and judged it to be adequate enough for them to hole up in for a little while. He carefully deposited Jazz on the ground against the wall, and pulled the saboteur’s right leg out to see if there was anything he could do.

 

Jazz grimaced at the movement of his leg, but kept still as Prowl looked over his leg.

 

“The worst of the damage is the motor control cables, they’re gonna keep sparkin’ till they’re fixed or the main power cord is severed cutting off power to the entire leg,” Jazz said and Prowl nodded.

 

“There’s not much we can do besides severing the main power cord, but it will make your leg even more useless,” Prowl stated and Jazz shrugged.

 

“S’not like it’s of much use like this anyway, an’ if it keeps sparkin’ like that until it can be repaired, the entire leg’s gonna need to be replaced.”

 

“Very well,” Prowl replied and moved up so he was sitting next to Jazz with one hand on his hip, feeling for the main cable through the gap in Jazz’s hip, as the other was held out to Jazz, palm up. “Knife please.”

 

Jazz’s visor was dim. “Hmm?” Jazz asked, then shook himself, his visor brightening as he took in Prowl’s request. “Oh, right. Here.”

 

Prowl severed the cord and they both watched as the sparking died down completely once they were cut from the rest of Jazz’s frame.

 

“What about you?” Jazz asked and Prowl gave him a curious look. “Were you injured?”

 

“No, your penchant for dramatic entrances distracted them enough that I only have a few scrapes and dents,” Prowl said and Jazz smiled leaning back against the wall.

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Speaking of your entrance though,” Prowl began as he moved his back to the doorway so he was facing Jazz directly. His doorwings began to twitch slightly as Prowl got settled. “How did you know?”

 

Jazz frowned but answered. “About a joor or so after you left, one of the survivors of the Polyhex base escaped and managed to get to Tyger Pax, alerting us that Polyhex had been taken by the Decepticons over a decacycle ago due to deep-cover agents. Two were with you on the shuttle and some of my mechs saw them being chummy with Rotor in Iacon. Wasn’t too hard to put together after that,” Jazz explained his expression blank.

 

Prowl dragged his hand across his face as he responded. “Protocol states that in the event of the capture of an officer, especially one of high command, a rescue operation is to be carefully weighed and considered before being carried out.”

 

“That’s what it says.”

 

Prowl glared at Jazz for his nonchalance.

 

“Jazz –”

 

“Drop it, Prowl” Jazz said staring at the ceiling.

 

Prowl considered continuing the subject, his doorwings twitching a little more, but let it go. There would be a better time to bring it up later. Preferably when they were safe.

 

“Very well. How secure is this location?”

 

Jazz’s visor brightened at Prowl’s change of subject, and gave Prowl a weak smile.

 

“Pretty good, no one ever found me when I hid here when I was a younglin’. Not too many respectable mechs knew about this place.”

 

“I take it you hid here often then?” Prowl asked, willing to keep the conversation going as he started to go through his doorwings’ sensor readings, trying to pinpoint why they kept moving.

 

“Only when I needed to,” Jazz said. “They didn’t like it much when younglins came down here to play, but most mechs didn’t bother coming down here to look for us.”

 

Prowl listened to Jazz prattle on as he came across the sensory readings that were setting his doorwings off and then stiffened as he found what it was. Prowl slowly turned to look over his shoulder to try and glimpse just to be sure, when something went whizzing by their little alcove, only for it to pause as Jazz’s voice picked up cadence.

 

Prowl jumped onto Jazz, his hand coming up to cover Jazz’s mouth to silence the saboteur as the drone Prowl’s doorwings had picked up backtracked to where they were.

 

“Sound drone,” Prowl breathed into Jazz’s audio horn, shifting himself better on Jazz’s lap, boosting his own specialized sound dampeners.

 

They were reason for Prowl’s whisper quiet systems, but there was only a 52.4 percent possibility that it would be enough to dampen the natural sounds that two frames made. A crucial factor when dealing with a sound drone, which could only identify things by sound. Their original purpose was to seek and destroy turbo rats, and had had no need for any sort of visual software, but they had been found to have another use during the war in locating survivors after a battle.

 

Prowl calculated an 88.7 percent probability that the moment the drone was able to recognize their presence it would notify the Decepticons in the area.

 

Prowl did not dare to move or vent once the drone was in the small room with them. He could feel his frame begin to overheat from the close proximity to Jazz, the stress of the situation, and pushing his systems to compensate and muffle the sounds from two frames instead of just his own. It was not something he could keep up for long as the drone carefully scanned the room for any anomaly in the sounds around it.

 

Just as Prowl was notified that his frame was overheating and needed to activate his vents and fans immediately, there was a loud crash from what sounded to be down the hall. The sound drone jerked and turned, zipping off in the direction of the sound.

 

Only when Prowl’s doorwings could no longer pick up the drone, did he relax and vent, letting his fans click on to cool his frame. He removed his hand from Jazz’s face, only then did Jazz begin to cool his own overheated frame.

 

“This is not a safe location,” Prowl whispered, his face still close to Jazz’s.

 

Jazz gave Prowl an abashed look.

 

“Nope.”

 

“The Decepticons have sound drones patrolling this area.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Which means there are at least a few mechs nearby overseeing them.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Prowl leaned back and gave Jazz an exasperated look. “What weapons do you have?”

 

“About 10 more daggers and a blaster that was trashed in the crash, only good for a few shots. Ironhide’d have a fit. You?”

 

“My acid pellet rifle,” Prowl said trying to calculate a way to get them out of this mess. “I only have 30 rounds though.”

 

“Huh,” Jazz muttered, carefully leaning his helm back against the wall, trying to not make any more noise than was absolutely necessary. “Make sure to keep at least two rounds, we might need ‘em.”

 

Prowl nodded and then paused, giving Jazz a curious look. There was no time for it, not really, Prowl had to plan to get them out of the complex and to the nearest Autobot base – Tyger Pax. But Prowl just could not stop himself this time.

 

“Jazz, since when did the ‘respectable’ mechs, that did not want to venture here, join the Decepticons?” Prowl asked pointedly and Jazz cringed.

 

“I know,” Jazz said his voice contrite.

 

At that point, Prowl could not help it, he started laughing, somewhat hysterically, at the ridiculous situation, with the odds stacked against them and the orn Prowl was having. Of course Jazz would recommend hiding in a place that had once made him feel safe, disregarding the time that had passed and not accounting for the changes to the area that would have occurred. That was Prowl’s job, one that he had disregarded in his blind faith in Jazz, and now they had an extra obstacle to work around. That was just how Prowl’s orn was going, and he could not help but laugh at how this was turning out. Prowl leaned forward, his helm resting on Jazz’s shoulder as he attempted to control his laughter, it would not do for the drone to be drawn back here.

 

Prowl felt Jazz hug him, petting a soothing line down Prowl’s back, murmuring. “It’ll be okay, Prowl. You’ll get out of this.”

 

That was when Prowl realized he was still straddling Jazz’s lap.

 

===

 

An orn later, they were still following the route Prowl had planned to a base in Tyger Pax just across the border between the city-states, and hopefully Decepticon free. The fastest way to get there was through the underground complex that was connected to several tunnels leading to the outer limits of the Polyhexian city-state. They were making good time considering that they had to stop every 15 to 20 breems to dodge the patrolling sound drones and that there was a large amount of ground to cover in order to get to the border to begin with. There was a reason why Prowl had taken the more easily targeted shuttle instead of driving the distance with his escort.

 

Not once did they talk about Prowl’s hysterical laughter back in the alcove. Prowl was more than a little relieved that Jazz had not even broached the subject.

 

Prowl pushed Jazz against a wall, standing in front of Jazz, and once again boosting his sound dampening systems as his doorwings picked up the now all too familiar readings of another sound drone patrol. After the first few passes of the drones, Prowl had picked up their pattern and used it to account for their movements in the complex. But just knowing was not enough and still resulted in them halting their vents and fans, overheating their systems each time.

 

Only when the drone passed them, continuing on its way did Prowl and Jazz date to cool their frames and proceeded down the hallway as well. They progressed along the complex this way for a while in amicable silence, not daring to make any more noise than was necessary as a precaution.

 

Or at least that was what Prowl’s planning had mandated.

 

“Ya know, I think we’re near the end of the complex, we’ll be in Tyger Pax before ya know it Prowler,” Jazz said with a cheerful voice 32.8 breems after the next drone patrol should have gone by.

 

“It will not be soon enough.” Prowl answered, his own voice pointedly quiet and on edge. There had to be a reason as to why the sound drone patrol was so late.

 

“Oh, come on Prowler. We’re practically home free, and it’s way past the time for a drone to do a patrol around here, they probably don’t do one ‘round these parts. It’s fine to talk now.”

 

“Actually, you should have listened to your friend, Autobot,” another voice said, and Prowl and Jazz both dumbly turned to look at the Decepticon standing in a doorway with a gun pointed at them.

 

Prowl automatically ducked down another hallway as the gun fired, taking random turns when he could trying to get the Decepticon off their trail. He had little luck though, dragging along Jazz with a busted leg whittled down their speed enough where the Decepticon was able to keep up his pursuit. Turning and fighting in a narrow hallway would leave both Prowl and Jazz wide open for a counterattack, possibly leaving one of them injured enough where they would be unable to leave the complex without additional help. In fact, most of the scenarios Prowl’s tactical computer spat out were adamant that the chances of them both getting out were slim to none. This was only made worse because they were running in the _wrong_ direction.

 

“Prowl, just leave me and run!” Jazz demanded trying to pull his arm from Prowl’s grasp.

 

Prowl tightened his grip. “No.”

 

“Seriously, get yourself out of here, I’m just slowin’ ya down,” Jazz said continuing to try to pull away from Prowl as they rounded another corner.

 

At which point, Prowl was struck by a flash of inspiration, and without pausing to actually think it over, acted on it.

 

“Jazz, do me a favor and shut up.” Prowl growled and pushed Jazz through an open doorway, continuing down the hall a ways before pulling into another room and waiting just before the Decepticon came around the corner.

 

Prowl offlined his optics and focused on the sensory input from his doorwings, taking in what was happening in the hallway. Prowl ‘saw’ when the Decepticon paused, his helm moving as he scanned the hallway.

 

“Oh where, oh where, could you little Autobots be hiding? Don’t you want to come out and play?” the Decepticon called out, looking in the first doorway on the left.

 

The Decepticon went to the next door on the right, and finding nothing there, went to the next door on the left. The room Jazz was in.

 

Prowl onlined his optics, and, with his sound dampening systems once again up and working hard, prowled down the corridor towards the room, acid pellet rifle in his hands. Right before Prowl reached the door, the Decepticon spoke again.

 

“I found you.”

 

Right beyond the Decepticon, who was standing just inside the doorway, Prowl saw Jazz grin widely at the Decepticon.

 

“Funny, I was just ‘bout to say that about him finding you.”

 

“Wha –?”

 

The Decepticon did not even get a chance to turn around, Prowl shooting him twice, once in the helm, the other at the spark, and the mech dropped dead.

 

“It is a relief to know that my knowledge of your inability to keep quiet and not taunt the enemy has actually become useful,” Prowl said, lowering his rifle while he walked into the room.

 

“Well I was gonna keep quiet when you told me to, but it got a little iffy when you shoved me in here.” Jazz replied amused, reaching to grab Prowl’s outstretched hand, using it to pull himself up. “But you’re forgiven, seeing as I do make excellent bait. I mean, just look at me.”

 

Jazz gestured at his own scratched, dirty, and dented frame, which Prowl considered before pulling Jazz’s right arm over his shoulder.

 

“The mangled leg is a little off-putting.” Prowl told the saboteur, wrapping his free arm around Jazz’s waist and leading the mech back through the doorway over the dead Decepticon’s frame.

 

Prowl let Jazz go to search the dead mech’s frame and subspace for energon and weapons, finding a single cube and only the mech’s gun. Prowl subspaced the gun and handed the cube to Jazz.

 

“Drink half of that.” Prowl ordered and Jazz frowned but nodded, downing his half and giving it back to Prowl to finish off.

 

While Prowl finished the cube, Jazz continued their conversation. “True, but even with the leg, I’m still a solid nine.”

 

“A nine? Jazz you should not be so hard on yourself; a nine out of a hundred is a terrible score.”

 

“Nine out of ten, Prowler.” Jazz huffed before grinning at Prowl, hooking his arm around Prowl’s shoulders again and they both began to walk back down the hallway.

 

They retraced their steps back to where the Decepticon had originally found them quietly. Only when they were making actual progress again did Jazz speak up.

 

“Ya should’ve left me, Prowler,” Jazz said and Prowl’s grip on Jazz tightened.

 

“I did not and will not abandon you.” Prowl stated his gaze straight ahead of them.

 

Jazz vented loudly before he began to speak, his volume increasing with each word. “Your best chance of survival was to drop me and get the frag outta there. Your tactical processor coulda told ya that!”

 

“And common sense could have told you that attempting a rescue midair on a shuttle full of hostiles by yourself is suicidal,” Prowl said and when Jazz opened his mouth to protest, Prowl cut him off. “You had excellent timing on the shuttle rescue, I’ll give you that, but here is not the place to discuss such things. Especially considering that you have drawn Decepticon attention to us, twice, through speaking. So, with that in mind, please by quiet until we get to Tyger Pax.”

 

Jazz gave Prowl a weak smile as he nodded, his frame beginning to shake his hand coming up to cover his mouth. When Prowl gave Jazz a concerned look, the saboteur waved off Prowl’s concern, motioning to his throat, indicating that Prowl had wanted him to be quiet.

 

Prowl was ready to glare at his friend, when it occurred to Prowl that Jazz was shaking with laughter that was similar to what Prowl’s had been. It made sense really, Jazz had come with the intention of saving Prowl, but things seemed to get worse at every turn. What kind of savior screwed things up like that?

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Prowl said, tightening his grip on Jazz. He did not mention Jazz’s own hysterical laughter or the way the saboteur leaned closer to Prowl once he had calmed as they worked their way through the rest of the complex and out of the tunnel to the surface of Cybertron.

 

An orn later, they crossed the border from Polyhex to Tyger Pax and it was surprisingly uneventful, especially when compared to how the beginning of the debacle had begun, and only served to Prowl more on edge the closer they got to the base. It was enough to when they came across an Autobot patrol Prowl held them at gunpoint, a completely understandable action given that he had started off in a shuttle with six traitors. Once Prowl was sure they were actually Autobots, the patrol acted as an escort to the two commanding officers to the base.

 

Prowl only felt himself begin to relax as the first lights of the Tyger Pax base appeared on the horizon. His doorwings sagged with relief as he fully relaxed once they got Jazz to the medbay on the base.

 

Jazz tapped on Prowl’s arm, and once he had Prowl’s attention, pointed to his vocalizer.

 

“Yes Jazz, it is safe for you to speak now,” Prowl said, his tone patronizing and Jazz grinned.

 

“Just making sure, ya never know when I’m gonna jinx us.” Jazz teased and Prowl groaned in reply.

 

Prowl reached over and pulled Jazz’s helm close to his.

 

“Just get better, Jazz,” Prowl said right next to Jazz’s audio horn and gave a quick kiss to Jazz’s cheek before letting go and walking out of the medbay.

 

It was past the time for Prowl to go over and find out how the frag the Decepticons managed to take over an entire city-state with the Autobots none the wiser for more than a decacycle.

 

Jazz’s overly bright blue visor watched the tactician go.


End file.
